"Honeybunchabugaboos, where is Amerika? "
"Oh, Loveydoveygoogleyeyes, I thought you gave up asking those philosophical questions ages ago!"
"I meant the TV show Amerika."
"Oh. Well, are you sure you have the right channel?"
"Yes. This is the local ABC affiliate."
"Well, are you sure it's supposed to be on at this time?"
"Yes. It's nine o'clock. It's always been on at nine o'clock..."
"Well, hold on a sec, and I'll look it up in the TV Guide...oh, dear. I'm sorry, Superdupersnugglebuns, but Amerika is over."
"Over? What do you mean, over?"
"There aren't any more episodes."
"No more episodes? But...but, Passionfruitlips, where am I going to get my daily dose of ultra-patriotic, red-baiting propaganda?"
Where, indeed. You know, I believe that, to a true satirist, no subject should be considered out of bounds, that no facet of human behaviour should necessarily be exempt from being made fun of. Lately, however, this thesis has been put sorely to the test by subjects which, in and of themselves, are so ridiculous as to make further comment redundant.
Amerika, the $32 million, fourteen and a half hour maxi-miniseries, is a recent case in point. My biggest problem with it is: how can I make fun of something that is already such a joke?
The show involves a Russian takeover of the United States, a fantasy that rivals White House deficit predictions in absurdity. Where were America's European allies while this was going on? Where was Canada? Hell, where were Sylvester and Chuck?
Okay, forget about them. What happened to America's nuclear weapons? Sure, it's American policy to claim not to be willing to initiate a first strike, but, hey, let's get real about this for a second, kids: it's the threat of the use of nuclear weapons that keeps Russia from invading western Europe with its vastly superior conventional forces.
Then there is that touch of the ridiculous in Kris Kristofferson's repeated insistence that the main purpose of Amerika was to rekindle American pride, not to inflame anti-Russian sentiment. That's somewhat like an innocent shepherd saying he followed Attila the Hun because of the dental plan. If this was the way Kristofferson reconciled the film's right-wing sentiments with his own left-wing philosophy, it's just as well his character wasn't given much to say.
Sam Neill, who played a Russian officer in charge of occupation forces, stated he would be "distraught" if the show turned into "another piece of anti-Soviet nonsense propaganda." He should have spent more time worrying about his accent. The real message of the show, that liberalism is a weakness that could cause the downfall of America, is not likely to enhance the political standing of either of these actors.
(Of course, why one of the largest, most influential, and arguably most important nations in the twentieth century needs to constantly remind itself of how great it is can be a source of merriment. I have a vision of the American ego, kept in a dark closet, that squeals, "Feed me...feed me!" whenever events threaten the country's self-image.)
The Russian government added fuel to the farce when it threatened the Moscow bureau of ABC News even before any film was shot. My sympathies lie with the United Nations, however, which was portrayed as Russia's occupational enforcer. Only in Reagan's America.
As if all this wasn't enough to make the Lincoln Monument burst out laughing, the Chrysler Corporation, a major sponsor, withdrew 36 commercials worth eight million dollars from the show, claiming that it would be "inappropriate." What would be appropriate for Chrysler? A football game? The latest episode of Miami Vice? One can only assume that the appropriate setting for Chrysler's slogan, "Pride is back - Born in America," would be after some ideologically pure TV violence.
What makes all the protests, and some of their effects, most laughable is that the show itself was so boring. It was dominated by interminably long preaches and the kind of romantic intrigue that would embarrass a regular viewer of Dynasty. Yet, largely because of the publicity the protestors showered upon the show, the first episode was very widely viewed.
(You can add this to my personal complaint that, once again, Toronto has been made up to look like Any Major Metropolitan Centre USA. It's getting so a person can't walk the streets any more without running into another country's fantasies.)
With so little going for it, how can I justify making fun of Amerika?
Because, it's there.
